The Journalist and the Vigilante
by Crimson-Eyes26
Summary: 2012 AU. Crime is rampant in the city of Manhattan, until a mysterious vigilante appears on the scene. A young journalist named Donatello has made it his mission to investigate this hero-or villain-and find out their identity. But what is the cost of getting such information? DonnieXOC. Some hints of Raphril.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: It's been a while since I posted something, huh? Well, I was watching the old Batman movies when it gave me an idea on a TMNT AU. In this AU, Donatello is a journalist who wants to prove himself, and he gets that chance with the emergence of a vigilante named Deadly Nightshade. At the same time, he is introduced to a mysterious heiress, not knowing there's more to her than meets the eye (welp Transformers reference). The turtles aren't related in this AU, and mutants, anthropomorphic animals, and humans intermingle with each other openly. Please read and review!**

* * *

Chapter 1

_Manhattan, 2015_

The light from a quarter moon partly illuminated areas in the city that weren't overwhelmed by streetlights or neon signs, or the radio towers. Cars could be honking for miles over congested traffic, and the air had the smell of gas-guzzler exhaust. Yep, just another night in Manhattan. And with a city like Manhattan, it came with another perk, if you could call it that: crime. If it wasn't gang activity that had people on edge, it was the seedy going-ons orchestrated by the mob. If you didn't know the name Antoine Puzorelli, then may the Lord have mercy on you. And if you didn't witness a mugging, then that was considered unusual.

The denizens figured the police had their hands tied, didn't care, or were just scared of what sort of retaliation they would face from Puzorelli. They were often tempted to take the law into their own hands, but that would mean instant lock-up by the Chief himself. Well…maybe if you were the right kind of vigilante, then the crime problem would be solved. But who could possibly do that?

That answer would come with numerous rumors spread by the local street thugs and bums. For the past year or so, criminals have been found bound in wire or chains at crime scenes before they could get away with any stolen loot. However, there were no clues on exactly who was capturing them. If it was some sort of vigilante…well, it wouldn't be long before Chief of Police Raphael got involved. After all, the word was he had some sort of beef against vigilante wannabes.

One night in particular began with a man, his wife, and their young son; tourists trying to find their way through Manhattan. Of course, they had to run into the notorious Purple Dragons; they were another addition to the list of people they mugged. Two of them, Sid and Fong, grabbed the wife's purse before the husband put up a fight. Fong finally had enough of the resistance and pulled out a gun, aiming it directly at the child's head. The husband immediately let go of the purse, causing the two gang members to bolt for wherever their hideout was.

What they didn't realize was that they had someone watching their every move.

Fong and Sid made it to the rooftop of an abandoned building, the former rummaging through the purse and pulling out cash and credit cards. Sid gave him an awkward stare, fiddling his calloused thumbs, before asking, "Was it really necessary to point yer gun at that kid's head?"

"What does it matter?" Fong snorted nonchalantly before lighting up a cigarette. "We got what we wanted, and no one's gonna come looking for us."

"Yeah, but…" Sid stopped and glanced around the area nervously, feeling someone was eyeing them. "H-Haven't you heard the rumors?"

"What rumors?"

"Y'know…the ones about that costumed freak?" Sid whispered. "I heard they got Chris Bradford last week…"

Fong chuckled, blowing smoke near his accomplice's face. "They're just that…rumors! There's no such thing as that costumed freak, and you know it!"

A shadow peered from the small water tower above, looming over the two street punks. Sid and Fong happened to glance up and see the figure glowering at them, the latter so shocked his cigarette dropped from his mouth. Before they could get up and bolt, the figure dropped down and swiftly gave Sid an uppercut. He violently bit down on his tongue, causing blood to drip from his mouth, before he collapsed. Fong yelped and scooted towards the edge of the roof. He pulled out his gun as a last resort, but the figure just kicked it away, punched him in the gut, and picked him up by the neck, holding his head over the side.

"Don't kill me, man!" Fong begged, almost crying. "Don't kill me!"

The figure simply stared at him through the visor on their helmet before they forcefully lifted the punk's head up to face them. "Oh…I'm not going to kill you." The entity spoke in a feminine voice, distorted a bit by electronic means. "But you're going to return what you stole…and I want you to do me a little favor. I want you to spread word to your buddies about who I am."

"W-Who are you!?" Fong shrieked.

Pulling him closer, the figure spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, "I'm Deadly Nightshade."

Fong was finally let go-well, dropped was more accurate-with his head lolling on the edge of the building. He watched as Deadly Nightshade jumped off the roof and disappeared; did they commit suicide? He looked over the side and saw no signs of a body on the pavement. He suddenly let out a weak chuckle before he passed out on the roof, his upper body slumped over the roof's edge.

* * *

Onlookers took the moment to stare at the police cars and ambulances set around some abandoned building. One pulled out his phone to record paramedics wheeling some guy with a bloody mouth on a stretcher into one of the awaiting transports for emergency care. A police officer noticed the phone and told the onlookers to leave. One of the officers on the scene, who looked like a humanoid turtle wearing a trench coat, took a drag off of his cigarette as his green eyes watched the first ambulance leave.

"This is the third time this week, Chief." One officer sighed. "And once again, nothing left behind. We don't have any idea who this guy is."

The chief placed his eyes on the second stretcher slowly coming out of the building and he pursed his lips together in suppressed frustration. "First it's the local drunks…then the run-of-the-mill bank robbers…and now the Purple Dragons. I smell a vigilante showboat. I'm gonna have a talk with these thugs once they wake up and behave like good boys."

"Sir…you don't think those rumors going around are true, do you?" The officer questioned in a nervous tone. "There hasn't been one like this for a few years…"

"Don't get worked up over gossip." The chief assured. "These thugs'll say anything to get off the hook…even blaming their blunders on ghosts."

"Ghosts? Really, Chief Raphael?" An approaching voice teased. "Would-be criminals are actually stupid enough to blame it on ghosts?"

Raphael scowled, puffing on his cigarette one more time before flicking it to the ground. Great…whenever these weird attacks happened, HE would always show up to look for more fuel for a so-called scandal. He turned towards the street and found another humanoid turtle, one significantly taller and sporting glasses. The other turtle flashed a smile, showing the gap in his front teeth, which greatly irritated the chief.

"Well, look who came crawling from the gutter. The hotshot journalist himself." Raphael glowered, crossing his arms over his plastron. "What the hell do you want, Donatello?"

"Oh, so you remember my name this time?" Donatello mused, readying the recording function on his phone. "The attack on those gang members…it looks to me we have another appearance by Deadly Nightshade. After all, one of your officers wouldn't be capable of this, would they?"

The chief's eyes widened, but just as quickly narrowed into slits. He marched up to the journalist and made sure their faces were a mere inch or so from each other. "Let me get something straight with you, newsboy." Raph warned, the cigarette smell in his breath hitting Donnie square in the nostrils. "There is NO vigilante freak runnin' around in MY city. And if there were…I'd be the FIRST to find 'em. So stop stickin' yer nose where it doesn't belong."

The other not-so-pleasant words he had for him fell back to the dark reaches of his mind when they heard disoriented moans and shouts. The two turtles turned to see Fong in a stretcher being loaded on the ambulance and shouting, "N-Night…N-Nightshade! D-Deadly…Nightshade!"

The chief stared at the injured thug being loaded on the ambulance, his eyes widening slightly in disbelief. Donatello stared as well until a triumphant smirk crossed his lips. Once Raph turned back in his direction, he crossed his arms and retorted, "No vigilante freak running around in your city, huh?"

Raphael sputtered, holding his finger up, before snorting like a mad bull and shooting back, "Just get out of here! And turn that friggin' phone off before I shoot it!"

When the chief stormed off, Donatello stuck his phone back in his pocket and cleaned his glasses. Typical…he's the only one to know that Manhattan has a new vigilante and no one takes him seriously. He had been spending the past several months probing into this string of retaliation against criminals, and everyone around him either didn't care or didn't want to face the truth and stay in their fog of ignorance instead. Shouldn't the news be about the truth and not lies to make people pretend everything's normal? Straightening the collar on his shirt, the turtle glanced up at the rooftops of neighboring buildings, as if he wanted something to appear out of nowhere.

"I know you're out there somewhere…" He murmured. "…And I'm not gonna stop until I find you."

* * *

Camera flashes and murmurs echoed throughout the large conference room that housed itself in Manhattan's City Hall. Most of the guests consisted of the elite, the cream of the crop. If not any business tycoons or socialites, then the city officials and even members of the police force. In front of the podium sat a table seating city council members, the police commissioner, and the wealthiest diplomat in the district. The murmurs quieted down when a woman went up to the podium and tapped on the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen…thank you all for your patience." She spoke. "Now, if I may, please welcome our newly-elected mayor…Yoshi Hamato."

Everyone in the room clapped their hands to welcome the new mayor…well, except for someone in the back, who leaned back in his seat holding a glass of champagne, a cocky smirk on his lips. He watched intently as a humanoid rat stepped up to the podium and nodded in acceptance of the applause. The new Mayor Hamato held his hand up, silencing the applause, before his voice emanated from the microphone.

"Thank you. For many years, our country has made the very image of Manhattan synonymous with criminal abundance. As your mayor, I promise to do what I can, in cooperation with the council and police force, to bring down the source of the city-wide corruption…mafia boss Antoine Puzorelli. It is important that our beloved city become peaceful and habitable for decent, hard-working citizens."

"Decent?" The spectator in the back, another humanoid turtle, snickered. "There's no such thing as a decent person here. If you're decent, you should just move out."

"Watch your words, Leonardo." A middle-aged man across from him demanded quietly. "This man is what this city needs. If he found out about your shady doings- "

"Hey, I've been a good little attorney." Leonardo retorted, rolling his eyes. "Hamato has nothing on me. All I do is defend people who need me in court. Isn't that what a decent, hard-working citizen does?"

The man wasn't fooled by the turtle's play of innocence. "You're hard-working, but you're anything but decent."

"In addition to cooperation from the police commissioner and Chief of Police Raphael, I will also work in coordination with one of our local contributors, Ms. Nikita Olizweski." Yoshi paused and narrowed his eyes, radiating his determination towards his cause. "I will not rest until our streets are made safe to walk again."

The audience applauded again, both at the promises made by the mayor and the vast confidence he displayed. Leo clapped as well, though it was more on the lines of sarcastic clapping. The last mayor made similar promises…and he ended up on the end of a gun barrel by one of Puzorelli's assassins. The turtle defended Puzorelli a few times; managed to get him out of serving prison time. It was actually odd that this new mayor didn't mention that some clown was going around at night stopping crimes all by themselves. Taking another drink of champagne, he smirked and decided to see how long this guy would last.

* * *

Despite the delay in traffic, a black Toyota Camry pulled into the parking lot next to the news station. Donatello stepped out and let out a loud yawn, shielding his eyes from the morning sun in the usually-dreary sky. He hardly slept last night, and he was basically running on espresso. Coffee mug in hand along with his laptop and papers, he locked his car and strolled inside to tackle the day.

It didn't mean that his days were always smooth-sailing, though.

The moment he slapped his badge on and stepped inside, he was greeted by his coworkers, many of them much older than him, with a few snickers and chuckles. This wasn't new, unfortunately. Because he was probably the youngest there at twenty-three, he often got teased by the station, especially when he was eager to find his 'scoop of the century'.

"Hey Donnie, have you put in any applications for Mystery Inc. yet?" One man chortled.

"He can form his own if he can just find a talking Great Dane!" A woman giggled.

Donnie rolled his eyes and sighed. "Very funny, people. At least I'm concerned about what's going on around this city…something that doesn't involve what a celebrity's decked out in or a pointless football game."

"Aw, don't be like that, kid! We're just teasing you!"

The turtle didn't pay any attention to that means of defense when he saw his boss. Looking back over his papers, he made a mad-dash for the man and called out, "Mr. Thompson! Mr. Thompson-Burne!" He held his stack of papers up and waved them when he caught up to his boss. "Burne, boy do I have something good for you-"

"Donatello, how many times have I told you to just stick to what you're assigned?" The middle-aged man groaned, sliding his hand down his face. "I need you to do an article on the new pet shop opening downtown and have it done by tomorrow."

"What!?" The turtle spat, dropping his arm and almost dropping his article papers. "I've been gathering info on all the crimes thwarted by the mystery vigilante, and you want me to write about some PET SHOP!?"

"You know as well as I do that the vigilante is just a ghost story concocted by bums." Burne answered matter-of-factly. "Oh, and we've got an intern from the local community college. Since you're free, I'd like you to supervise him and teach him the ropes. Can you do that for me? Thanks."

Donatello wanted to argue, but his mouth just hung open and nothing came out. He finally regained his composure and let out a frustrated growl before storming to his desk. Of all the bosses he could have, he had to have Burne Thompson as his superior. That and coworkers who acted like total, shallow idiots. He once again questioned himself as to why he decided to go into journalism. Well, maybe this intern wouldn't be a total idiot towards him. When he got to his desk, he saw a stranger sitting near it and playing with a few paperclips. The stranger was another humanoid turtle, wearing a knit cap, vest, and barely tucked-in shirt. He scratched at one of his freckled cheeks before sticking his tongue out and getting ready to flick the paperclip towards the ceiling.

"Don't even think about it."

The other turtle stopped and dropped the paperclip onto Donnie's desk, looking up with a sheepish grin. "Heh, sorry dude. Just got bored waiting for you."

"Uh-huh." The bespectacled turtle cocked an eyebrow. "I'm guessing you're the intern?"

The freckled turtle grinned and shot up out of his seat, offering his hand. "Yep, the one and only! I'm Michelangelo, but my buds call me Mikey."

"Uh, Donatello." Donnie greeted back, shaking the other's hand with uncertainty. "All right Mikey, my boss is wanting me to write an article on the new pet store downtown, and I don't have a whole lot of info on it. I wish he'd let me write something on Deadly Nightshade."

"Wait, Deadly Nightshade?" Mikey questioned with excitement. "Aw man, you're interested too!? Deadly Nightshade's awesome! Too bad almost nobody believes in 'im! An article on a superhero would be AWESOME!"

"Vigilante is the most accurate term." Donnie corrected, the ghost of a smile on his face. "And yes, it would be, ahem, awesome. But because almost nobody believes Deadly Nightshade exists, I can't write any articles on them. Instead, I have to do articles on pet stores and restaurants…"

"That's harsh, dude." The freckled turtle frowned. "But maybe I can help on the pet store stuff."

"Are you still obsessing over Deadly Nightshade, Donnie?"

Donatello raised his head up at the female voice and cast his auburn eyes on the redhead decked in yellow walking up to his desk. A snort came out of his nostrils as he crossed his arms and looked indignant of the woman questioning him. "Obsessing is too strong of a word, April. But it would be better to write about than the junk I'm stuck with."

Michelangelo stared at the redhead and gasped lightly. "Hey, wait, April? As in April O'Neil, the TV reporter? Whoa, you look even prettier in-person! I'm Mikey!"

"Nice to meet you, Mikey." April greeted before turning to Donatello, a sly grin on her face. "Let me guess, Burne shot you down on the vigilante article idea."

"Oh, how did you guess?" The bespectacled turtle asked with a voice oozing with sarcasm. "I mean, seriously, is a pet store grand opening more important than the fact that there are crime sprees being stopped by a costumed mystery hero? What is Burne thinking?"

"How do you know they're a hero?" The redhead questioned skeptically. "For all we know, they could be a villain, too."

"I don't see it that way." Donnie argued. "So, what brings you here, April? Are you here to tally up your stories against mine?"

"Not today." April opened up her coat pocket and pulled out what looked like two invitations, both presenting elegant cursive writing. Donatello tilted his head and wondered what they were for before the woman continued, "Tonight's a charity event at the Olizweski manor. I was going to go with Vern, but he got the flu and dropped out at the last second. So I'm giving the extra one to you."

Donnie glanced away and sighed, fiddling with his papers while Mikey played with the plastic alligator decorating the desk. "I don't know, April…fancy parties aren't exactly my forte."

"Well, I mean, Chief Raphael and Mayor Hamato are going to be there. I know you've been hounding the former for info on the vigilante and the crime rates, but if you don't want to…"

At the mention of the chief and the mayor, Donatello snapped his head towards April and promptly snatched the extra invitation from her. "All right, I'll go! But just long enough to interview the chief and the mayor."

"Great! See you there!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Well, I got done with this chapter faster than expected. So Donatello accompanies April to this charity event being hosted at the Olizweski estate, hoping to get an interview with Chief Raphael or Mayor Hamato. But while he's there, he meets the heiress Cheyloe Olizweski. Will the two end up forming a friendship? Or will the fact that Donnie's a journalist do more harm than good? Read and review, and stay tuned!**

* * *

Chapter 2

Donatello honestly had a hard time lending his keys to a valet so the latter could park his car, but considering it was hard to find a parking space out at the now-crowded Olizweski estate, he had no choice but to let them go for the time being. Well, at least he didn't have any valuables except his coffee mug and favored copy of "Deadly Heat". Though it took a while, he managed to find and dust off a suit jacket and pants he had from his job interview days. His roommate helped him pick out a bow tie, and he made sure he didn't smell of espresso and sweat in time for this soiree. He picked April up at her residence and went from there, though it was anything but a date.

"Wow April, never knew you were a fan of the frilly stuff." Donnie quipped, snickering at the frilly yellow and white dress she had on.

"Ha, ha, Donnie." April griped. "It's not my fault my grandma gave me this for my birthday."

"So exactly what kind of charity is being hosted here, anyway?" The turtle inquired. "You didn't exactly fill me in on the details."

"It's concerning the local children's hospital. It lost a lot of funding due to threats from the mob." April explained. "So Nikita Olizweski and her daughter Cheyloe are raising money to make sure they don't close down and leave sick kids without hope."

Donnie's eyes widened. "Wow…they seem like nice people."

"That's what I hear, even though they're kind of reclusive." April agreed. "Oh, and a word of warning. When you go in, don't make it obvious that you're a journalist. Thing is…they don't like journalists or reporters."

The turtle was about to ask the redhead why that was so, but she had already went inside the mansion and disappeared amongst the crowd of people. If the Olizweskis were such nice people, why didn't they want to talk to anyone related to the news? Did they have something to hide? Well, if he couldn't get answers from April, then maybe it would help to go to the source. If not Nikita Olizweski…then maybe Cheyloe Olizweski. That and finally corner the chief and mayor and get their input on the crime occurring in the city.

When Donatello finally managed to squeeze his way in, he felt a bit overwhelmed by the sights and smells in the manor. He smelled champagne being offered by butlers hired for the evening, some of the hors d'oeuvres, if they could be considered that, and cigar smoke emanating from a few country club regulars who came looking for gossip. Hmm, knowing the chief, he would be somewhere talking with the mayor, maybe making a plan on how to deal with the criminal empire in Manhattan. Tugging at his bow tie, he brushed through the crowd to get himself something to drink first.

While he wasn't a big fan of alcohol, one glass of champagne wouldn't hurt, or a piece of shrimp. He squeezed past and got awkward looks from some of the socialites, in turn offering them a nervous grin and an 'excuse me'. When he got to the table of food and drinks, he noticed someone-by the body shape, a woman-seemingly sampling some of the delicacies. Would this woman know where to find the chief? Or better yet, Cheyloe Olizweski? Clearing his throat, he put on a polite face and greeted, "Excuse me, ma'am?"

The woman turned around to see who addressed her. Turning around almost made her long brunette bangs smack her in the eye they didn't cover, and she kept the mouth of the champagne glass to her lips. Donnie had to admit, though she looked sort of tomboyish, she was quite attractive. He smiled again and continued, "Hi, um, could you tell me which one of these ladies is Cheyloe Olizweski?"

The brunette stared at him, her cheeks now wearing a tinge of red; she admitted to herself he looked kind of cute. She gave him a smile in return before answering softly, "I'm…not entirely sure."

"Oh, well, thank you, anyway." Donnie nodded, disappointment lacing his voice. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am."

The turtle walked away from the table, not noticing the brunette staring at him and suddenly looking nervous and uncomfortable. Maybe someone else would give him the answers he wanted. He walked through the crowd and, to his excitement, found Chief Raphael and Mayor Hamato conversing while staring at a display case full of collectibles from other countries. This was his chance. Ignoring April's earlier warning, he went to pull his phone out and turn on the voice recorder when he was suddenly blocked by a figure about as tall as he was.

"Whoa, hey, long time no see!" The tan-skinned man greeted with his own gap-toothed smile. "You're Donatello, right? You interviewed me a few months ago about me and the community theater!"

Donnie held back his feelings of frustration at being blocked off from the people he wanted to see to remember who this guy was. He did remember doing an article on the theater's production of "Beauty and the Beast" a few months back and interview the guy playing the Beast. It suddenly came back to him and he wore a small smile. "Oh yeah, you're Mike! You were one of the leads! Well, your hair is certainly as wild as ever; how's your acting career going?"

"I've actually got an audition for the Broadway production of 'Chicago'!" Mike replied gleefully. "I really want to play Roxie Hart's lawyer, Billy Flynn. What about you? Are you climbing the journalism ladder?"

"Well, sort of." Donnie sheepishly admitted. "I came here with a friend of mine, but I've seem to lost her in the ocean of people."

The actor laughed loudly, wiping at his eyes; the turtle remembered this guy having an odd sense of humor, but oh well. Mike calmed down and pointed towards a hallway. "Hey, you should really check out this room. It has some of the craziest stuff in there! These people must have a lot of free time on their hands!"

Well, Donatello couldn't help but feel curious. With a little prodding, he followed Mike down that weird hallway and they came across a large room, almost the size of a ballroom. Besides a few full-length mirrors on the walls, what stood out the most was the collection of statues-or maybe suits of armor-all of different origin. A few looked like something straight out of an old horror flick, and it made Donnie a bit anxious. Mike seemed to be amazed by all of them, particularly one that seemed to be of Asian origin.

"Whoa, hey, where do you suppose this one came from?" The actor asked, motioning his thumb towards it. "India? Indonesia?"

The turtle stared at the tall figurine, noting the reds and oranges and yellows-white was in it too- and wracked his brain on where it possibly came from, not noticing footsteps entering the room. "It's not Japanese or Chinese. Hmm…I honestly have no idea."

"It's Thai."

Donnie and Mike froze, turning to the middle and seeing a third person with them. The former immediately recognized this individual…the woman over at the refreshment table. He watched her cross her arms over her mahogany dress shirt and stare at the valuables with some sort of masked pride. Mike glanced down at the woman and asked, "Really? How do you know?"

Without missing a beat, the brunette replied, "Because I bought it in Thailand." When she noticed both of them wearing shocked expressions, she laughed awkwardly before adding, "Where are my manners? I'm Cheyloe Olizweski!"

The actor slowly chuckled and shook hands with her. "Mike. The pleasure's mine."

Cheyloe noticed Donnie, the guy from earlier, and shook hands with him. "Cheyloe Olizweski."

The turtle chuckled and cocked an eyebrow. "Donatello. Are you sure this time?"

"I'm pretty sure." She replied with a lopsided smile. "I apologize for not-"

"Miss Olizweski?" A man called, appearing near the doorway of the room, catching the brunette's attention. "Would you like for us to open up any more cases of champagne?"

Cheyloe thought for a moment, glancing at Donnie and Mike, before replying, "Yeah…mm, I think six more cases should be enough for everyone. Open up six, please."

The man nodded before he left to carry out the task. The woman looked back at her guests and continued, "Sorry about that. I've been leaving the spotlight to my mother most of the night. I'm not exactly used to giving orders, if you know what I mean. So what brings you boys here? I didn't think anybody my age would consider charities."

"Oh, I got talked over here by my stage director. We thought about doing a play just for the kids in the hospital." Mike admitted. "Then I ran into Donatello after he interviewed me a while back, just catching up on stuff before we came in here."

Cheyloe seemed to pale at the word 'interview'. "Did you say 'interview'?" Her eyes went to Donatello. "Are you…you're not part of the news, are you? Did you come here hoping to talk to me or my mother? Look, Mr. Donatello…you seem nice, but I'm not too fond of news people."

Donnie looked quite shocked at her statement. "N-No, no! I mean, yeah, I'm a journalist, but I didn't come here looking for a story. My coworker invited me because her friend got sick and couldn't go. I also kind of wanted to congratulate the new mayor…that's all."

Cheyloe tilted her head a bit towards the side. "That so? Hmm…I'll buy it. But then why did you ask for me earlier?"

The turtle scratched the back of his neck and adjusted his glasses. "Oh, uh…well…"

Before Donatello could complete his answer, or at least give one that wouldn't make her suspicious, another person stepped into the room. This one was an older woman with short dark brown hair, pale skin, and an eye patch over her right eye. She wore an elegant dress uniform and heeled boots. "There you are, Cheyloe. Are you giving some guests the grand tour?"

Cheyloe laughed. "Not exactly, Mom. I was just chatting with Donatello and Mike. Donnie was wanting to congratulate Mayor Hamato and-"

"Donatello?" The woman, Nikita Olizweski, interrupted before glaring at the turtle with her lone blue eye. "I've heard that name…he has a few news articles in the paper and on the Internet. Are you here to beg my daughter for an interview? Then you've come to the wrong place. I had to give your redheaded friend a warning a moment ago."

"N-Not at all, ma'am!" Donnie insisted. "I was…I was just admiring all the artifacts and everything you've collected. She was just telling us about this one right here…it's from Thailand, right?"

"Mother…" Cheyloe stated, looking embarrassed. "It's okay…he's not looking for an interview."

The older Olizweski stared at the journalist; she honestly had a hard time believing that. But she glanced at her daughter and her expression that clearly screamed 'I can handle this' to her. Letting out a quiet sigh of resignation, she nodded to the younger Olizweski and replied, "All right, dear. Just be sure to let me know if he gives you any trouble, okay?"

"Honestly, Mother." Cheyloe griped. "You worry too much."

The older woman seemed to chuckle softly as she left, leaving the brunette alone with her guests. There was an awkward silence amongst the three before she coughed and asked hesitantly, "So…would you guys like some champagne? Have as much as you want…"

The turtle shook his head. "N-No thank you…I should probably get home and get to work on my…pet store article, or my boss will tear into me. I'm sorry if I caused any trouble, Miss Olizweski. I'll look for the mayor and go congratulate him first."

Donatello swiftly walked out of the room, now feeling awful for coming in the first place, before Cheyloe could stop him. She dropped her hand to her side in defeat and sighed, before Mike quietly chimed in, "…That went well."

* * *

Donatello searched the crowded corridor for April, now ready to leave out of fear of Nikita Olizweski. Maybe she beat him to the punch and talked with the new mayor, or maybe the chief. But now he felt uncomfortable here, and didn't care right now about getting even a smidge of an interview. On his way, he bumped into another turtle, causing him to spill his champagne.

"Watch where you're going!" The turtle in a blue suit growled. "You better not have ruined my suit!"

Donnie's eyes widened. "Leonardo Oroku? What's a sleazy lawyer like you doing at a charity event for kids?"

Leo held up his hands and chuckled when he realized who he was talking to. "Well, well, the up-and-coming journalist himself. Don't judge me; I care about the rug rats too. I'm not such a bad guy like everyone says. What about you? Hoping to score a few words from the Olizweskis?"

The bespectacled turtle snorted with annoyance. "Yeah, if I want to lose my head. I was actually hoping to talk to the mayor and the chief. With Hamato in, I hope he finds out about every single corrupt thing you've done…and your ties to Puzorelli."

The lawyer smirked. "So, you've heard those little rumors about me defending Antoine, too? I'm not surprised…someone as nosy as you would look for anything to skyrocket you to fame…or are you stuck writing about pet stores and baby pageants like usual?"

Donatello growled, his hands clenching into fists. Did this grease ball have to state the obvious, and in such a pompous tone? He hoped the new mayor would put this guy in jail very soon, or that he would be apprehended by Deadly Nightshade. He thought about a quip to retort with when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Donnie? Are you ready to go?" April appeared, then glanced at the other turtle. "Oh great, who let the blood-sucking tick in?"

"Touché, Little Miss Sunshine." Leonardo leered. "Coming to defend your frenemy? I'm caught off-guard."

The redhead scrunched up her nose and pursed her lips, tugging on the bespectacled turtle's arm. "Come on Donnie…let's get out of here before he drains the life out of us."

Donatello followed, albeit hesitantly, trying to block out the lawyer's further verbal jabs behind his back. If it wasn't for April, he probably would've made a fool out of himself and punched the guys straight in the beak. He honestly didn't know who was worse…the street criminals or that sleazy attorney. "He'll get a swift butt-kicking by karma…"

* * *

Various video screens flashed surveillance images inside the dark, underground-style room. All of them showed footage of the party guests and all the areas around the estate, some completely silent while others gave mixed voices. An individual sat staring at the images cross-legged in her chair to listen for anything of value. She turned away for a brief second when she heard someone step in.

"I figured you'd come back here to settle down." The second figure concluded. "Look…Cheyloe…I wasn't trying to embarrass you at all…"

"…I know, Mom." Cheyloe huffed softly, turning around to look at Nikita. "I know the risks involved with the reporters and such. They could possibly find out about…all of this. But we're not doing anything BAD." She paused and stared at a glass case, which looked like it held a suit. "Why can't they understand?"

"I wish I had the answer, sweetheart." The older woman replied solemnly. "But I don't understand myself why people are afraid of…different. Even when you keep them safe at night."

The brunette looked back at the screens. She saw one that had Donatello and his friend-reporter April O'Neil-getting ready to leave the residence. "Mom…that journalist…maybe he's not like the others. Maybe he should be given a chance…he probably won't blab our secret."

Nikita stared at the footage of the bespectacled turtle, not taking her eye off. "…Only time will tell, my daughter. Only time will tell…"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: I've been having Internet troubles, but I finally managed to get this up. Anyway, Donnie is still feeling the sting of practically being chased off by the Olizweskis simply for being a journalist. Could it get any worse? Well, would being a hostage count? Who will save him? I think we know who. Also a little more Leo. And if anyone is concerned, Leo is supposed to be a jerk in this AU, and his role just gets darker.**

* * *

Chapter 3

"How'd the boss like the article?"

Donatello glanced up at Michelangelo's voice addressing him, making him stop typing on his computer. "Oh…he enjoyed it. Of course, it's not going to be on the front page, like usual. Thanks for e-mailing me the info on the pet store, Mikey."

The freckled turtle stared at him as though the life was being drained out of him in front of his very eyes. "You okay, dude? You've been out of it ever since you went to that party. I thought parties were supposed to pump you up, not the opposite."

"Charity event." The bespectacled turtle corrected. "Well, I met the heiress, but I couldn't talk with her much because they, her mother especially, hate journalists. And I ran into that flea of a lawyer Leo Oroku. So…not a good night."

"Sorry about that, D." Mikey apologized sincerely. "Well, our shift will be over in a bit, right? Wanna go out for some pizza? Pizza always cheers me up."

Donnie was about to refuse the intern's offer when he could hear his stomach growl and groan from the lack of food the entire day; all he had to fill himself up was coffee and a granola bar that came from the very back of the pantry. His roommate was usually the one who stocked up on groceries but he was supposed to get paid today, along with himself. "Well, pizza sounds pretty good about now. Okay, but I need to stop at the bank first and deposit my paycheck. It won't take but just a minute."

"It's cool, dude." Mikey grinned. "Do what you gotta do."

After a few minutes, the clock struck 5 o'clock, prompting Donatello to log out of his computer and start gathering his papers. He made sure not to forget his laptop and precious coffee mug; last time he forgot his computer, one of the office workers hacked it and put porn on it as a sick joke. He watched Mikey grab a ratty backpack and an iPod and headphones, and the notepad he kept with him for any notes taken during an interview Donnie did. The freckled turtle noticed the other putting a book in his side bag, one that was pretty popular. "You're a fan of Rick Castle?"

Donatello blinked and glanced at the book. "Oh, not just Richard Castle. I love just about anything from the mystery genre and crime thrillers. There's a book in the Nikki Heat series coming out in a month or so, and I'm going to get it signed by the author himself!"

"Whoa, that's pretty cool." Michelangelo mused. "I don't read much, except for magazines. I'm a TV dude, plain and simple."

* * *

Donatello felt thankful that traffic wasn't congested today, even though this was the hour that most people got off work to go home and/or eat dinner at a local restaurant. But he parked his car with ease next to the sidewalk in front of the local bank and credit union, even when Michelangelo tried to mess with the radio on the way. The bespectacled turtle stepped out of the car, Mikey following suit, and made his way towards the doors of the bank. He glanced to the end of the street and noticed a black Sedan and a few men in thick coats conversing. Something about them didn't sit well with him.

"Hurry up, Donnie!" The freckled turtle called. "Better get in before the bank closes!"

"Right, right…" Donatello nodded, rushing inside the building.

The two turtles entered, seeing a few people entering and exiting at the same rate before 6 o'clock. Donnie recognized one of the tellers, the one with thick glasses and short, dark hair. She was one of April's friends; he believed her name was Irma Langinstein. All he had to do was deposit his check and he was out of here. But of course, like most of the stuff in his life, it wouldn't exactly work out like he wanted.

"Whoa, Donnie! It must be fate for us to be here at the same time!"

Donatello turned to his left and saw none-other than Mike standing in line. A smile graced his lips and he greeted back, "Oh, what's up, Mike? I'm guessing it's payday for you, too?"

"You too? Yeah, I came here to cash my check before going out with my friends." Mike nodded. "Wanna join? Drinks are on me!"

"Can't. I'm gonna join Mikey and get some food in my gut." The bespectacled turtle nodded towards the freckled turtle. "This is my coworker, Michelangelo. Mikey, this is Mike. I interviewed him a while back; he's an actor."

"You're an actor!?" Mikey exclaimed. "Whoa, are you on TV? I never see you on the sitcoms or anything! You must do theater or something!"

All three of them laughed, especially at Mikey's excitement, before they jumped and ducked at the sound of a gunshot. The sound earned screams from the people inside, and they saw the men Donnie noticed just moments ago, all adorned in thick coats, gloves, masks, and guns. One came with twine and bungee cords, obviously to restrain anyone who thought about getting away.

"This is a robbery!" The leader shouted. "Anybody who tries to call the cops won't be goin' home alive! Get down on the floor NOW!"

Everyone in the bank did as they were told, even more so with the sound of another gunshot. Donnie, Mikey, and Mike collapsed onto the floor in a panic, praying they would get out alive. The robber holding the restraints put Donnie and Mike back-to-back and bound their hands behind their backs with some flex-cuffs he had. Mikey ended up being tied up beside Irma, who began crying hysterically.

"Let us go!" Mike shouted. "Do you really want to hurt people over money, man!?"

The leader responded by taking his pistol and smashing it into Mike's skull, causing him to slump over. Donatello yelped and panted, fearing he would be next. He watched helplessly as the gang began holding their guns to the other tellers, threatening them with death if they didn't hand over any cash. He hoped bystanders outside could see the action and already called the police, but would there end up being a shootout? Why did today have to turn out like this? The bespectacled turtle looked over and saw another robber getting annoyed with Irma's crying and aim his gun at her.

"No, don't shoot her!" Michelangelo blubbered, now crying himself.

Just when it seemed like the robbery would have its first casualty, the lights suddenly cut out. At that moment, a squad of police cars arrived and blocked the street; someone must have called 911 from the outside. Among the police officers crowding around the doors was Chief Raphael, who had a megaphone in his hand ready to negotiate with the robbers. But he noticed the lights suddenly off and the robbers looking around confused. Their attention soon went to the skylights above when glass shattered and fell to the floor…along with something else.

"What the h-" The restraining robber was cut off when he was socked in the jaw by the uninvited guest. The hostages stared in disbelief and horror when they saw who was apparently coming to their rescue.

"Oh my God…" Raphael muttered when he saw from outside who dropped in. So…this clown WAS real.

Deadly Nightshade.

The other robbers stood frozen, but quickly shook it off before aiming their guns at the vigilante. Deadly Nightshade remained silent as she pulled out what looked like a set of shuriken and threw them, cutting their hands and causing their guns to fall to the floor. Donatello watched the event, never believing he would get to see Deadly Nightshade up-close. At that moment, Mike regained consciousness and groaned, but he became equally shocked when he saw the costumed figure.

"Is that…"

"Dude, Deadly Nightshade's REAL!" Michelangelo shouted.

Another two of the robbers went to charge at the vigilante with knives they had in their coats. She, in-turn, punched one in the gut and the other in the chest, flooring them both. She turned her helmeted head towards the leader; though her eyes were not visible, he could feel the cold fury from behind that visor. He went to grab one of the tellers and make his way for the door, but the vigilante was not impressed one bit. Deadly Nightshade pulled something from her belt and threw it at the leader's legs. The disc actually turned into something akin to capture bolos, and they coiled around his calves with ease, making him let go of the teller and drop to the floor.

All of the hostages gasped, seeing the gang of robbers on the floor around Nightshade's feet. Donatello watched the vigilante with bated breath…until something shifted in the corner of his eye. The turtle saw one of the criminals who tried to use a knife get up and stare at her with a lust for blood. He was holding his knife the wrong way, but he didn't seem to care. Oh no…he's going to charge…he's going to…

"LOOK OUT!" Donnie screamed.

Deadly Nightshade abruptly turned around in time to have the butt of the knife handle collide with her helmet, knocking her head back but leaving her standing. The robber chuckled, but it stopped when the vigilante stood straight and cracked her neck as though the blow didn't do a thing. She wagged her finger in disapproval in front of him before grabbing his shirt collar and clocking him out. Once that was taken care of, her attention went to Donatello, still tied up. She strolled towards him while pulling out a knife, which clearly frightened the turtle. She proceeded to kneel down next to him…and cut him loose. Donnie didn't know what to think about this…until Nightshade nodded her head at him. Was she…saying 'thank you'? Before she had the chance to cut Mikey and Irma loose…

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!" The voice of Chief Raphael thundered. He pushed his way inside the building along with a few officers. Pointing his gun at the vigilante, he added, "Come quietly…NOW."

The vigilante tilted her head to the side as she pulled something from a pouch on her belt. Raph readied himself to shoot, but, in a swift motion, his target through down a few pellets, which turned out to be smokescreens. A thick cloud of smoke engulfed her and anyone close by. With a few teary eyes and a chorus of coughs, the smoke cleared, and Deadly Nightshade was gone.

Raphael grumbled angry curses until he remembered the robbers. He turned to his officers and barked, "What're you waiting for!? Cuff these guys and free the hostages!"

Police cruisers blocked the way to the bank, and paramedics tended to anyone injured by the robbers. All of the statements taken were in agreement: the vigilante everyone believed was a fairy tale saved them. It didn't exactly sit well with the chief; vigilantes were nothing more than thugs in his eyes. And now all of these hostages told him that one rescued them? Something didn't add up…

"All right, all the money's back in the bank." Raph sighed in mental exhaustion. "No one's been seriously injured, so let's get these guys to lock-up."

Over by the sidewalk, Donnie and Mikey sat on the curb with blankets draped over their shoulders. They weren't exactly hurt, but the blankets helped them feel at least a bit more secure. Mike was busy getting a few stitches for the gash in his scalp from being pistol-whipped. The bespectacled turtle noticed the chief walk by and he cleared his throat. "So Chief…are you still convinced Deadly Nightshade's a myth?"

Raph sneered, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one up. "Don't act so high-and-mighty, Donatello. You've rubbed that in enough…now I've got a vigilante to hunt down."

"Dude, she SAVED us!" Michelangelo argued. "She doesn't deserve to be arrested! She didn't do anything wrong!"

"Stay out of this, punk!" The chief snarled. "These vigilantes are all alike…they're no different from the common criminals…and I'm gonna be the one to bring them all to justice!" He cast his green eyes on Donatello and leaned his face in closer. "And no one's gonna stop me…especially not YOU."

"Are you threatening me, Chief?" Donatello asked incredulously. "Well, in that case…I'm not gonna stop until I prove you WRONG. I'll prove that Deadly Nightshade is a hero, and that you're trying to put an innocent person in jail."

Raphael blinked before he let out a taunting snicker, making the bespectacled turtle's blood simmer. "Oh, really? What can you do? You're just a journalist."

When the chief walked off, Donatello sighed and lowered his head to stare at the pavement. While he disagreed that Deadly Nightshade was dangerous…what COULD he do to prove it? It wasn't like he personally knew the vigilante, so no one would exactly buy his word. Unless…unless he decided to do a little more digging on his own about Deadly Nightshade. If he could find out more about this mystery hero-he could even discover her identity-then that would not only bring him fame, but also prove to the people that Raphael was wrong. He would also prove to everyone at the news station that he was worth something more than pet store articles. Yeah…yeah, this could actually work!"

"Mikey…" Donnie began, standing up and looking more determined than ever. "From this moment on…I'm going to start doing as much investigating as I can on Deadly Nightshade and her motives. I want to prove that she's a hero to this city…and I want to prove the real bad guy is the chief."

Michelangelo kept his blue eyes on his coworker, but he proceeded to stand up as well. "Then lemme help you out! I don't want to see an awesome superhero go to jail! I can take photos and put 'em in the articles! Wait…what will the boss say? I thought he said not to bother with it?"

"Well, we're going to prove him wrong too." Donnie grinned. "We're going to show everyone the truth about Deadly Nightshade!" He paused when he felt his stomach growl again. "Uh…do you still feel like going for pizza? Even though we've been bank hostages today?"

"Hostages or not, you can never pass up pizza!" The freckled turtle triumphantly declared.

* * *

_"…__According to eye-witness accounts, an unknown individual dressed in a leather outfit and helmet brought down the armed robbers and freed two of the hostages before fleeing the scene. Some witnesses proclaim that this mystery hero is the rumored vigilante Deadly Nightshade. However, proof of this is still lacking."_

April O'Neil continued with her coverage on the bank robbery from earlier, possibly on every television set in Manhattan. This TV was flashing the report to the eyes of a young woman sitting at a desk in a building downtown. After the mention of the vigilante, she straightened her glasses and called out, "Mr. Oroku? You should take a look at this!"

The young woman heard a few grumbles from behind the office door before it opened, revealing none-other than Leonardo. He straightened his crooked tie, adjusted his collar, and popped a mint in his mouth to hide the smell of alcohol on his breath. His ocean-blue eyes went to his secretary and formed a glare. "What is it now, Ms. Honeycutt?"

The secretary pointed to the news report. "That attempted bank robbery…it showed the vigilante everyone talks about. I can't believe they actually exist…"

Leo trained his eyes on the screen, listening as a frantic purple-haired woman began recounting on how she was about to be shot before Deadly Nightshade appeared and saved them. He bit on his lip and clicked his tongue; a vigilante showing up wouldn't sit well with the criminal organization running Manhattan. But if that vigilante brought these guys to justice, that would mean more business for him. Especially if the freak decided to target Puzorelli.

"What do you suppose this will mean for Manhattan, sir?" Ms. Honeycutt asked quietly.

The turtle kept staring at the screen until a cheeky grin crossed his face. "Andromeda…why don't you head on home? I'll lock up tonight."

Andromeda glanced at him with concerned violet eyes; this was something he never requested unless he needed…alone time. "…Sir?"

"Just go on, Ms. Honeycutt." He replied, the professionalism coming back in his speech. "I just need to make a few phone calls."


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: I apologize for the lack of update. Don't you just hate it when writer's block rears its ugly head? That and I finally finished with school for the semester, so I've got more time to write. Anyway, in this chapter, Donnie reunites with the heiress and they agree to dinner, though both are adamant that it's not a date. Also, in this AU, Timothy, aka the Pulverizer, is Donnie's roommate. We also have a hint that Donnie was once in a relationship but it didn't go well. What happened will be revealed later. And towards the end of the chapter, a gold ring plays significance to why Raph hates vigilantes. Read and review!**

* * *

Chapter 4

If there was one thing Donatello knew about Fridays, it was that Fridays were painfully longer than the other days of the week. Not even Mondays could compare to the grueling day known as Friday. On Fridays, he had to feel the clock go sickeningly slow as he typed away on his computer, and had to listen to everyone else talk about the…explicit things they were going to do over the weekend. Those were pleasant images to have in his already-work-frazzled mind. On the plus side, it would mean getting more time to catch up on his reading, and doing more repair work on that old police radio he found. That device would allow him to listen for potential crimes…which also meant potential Deadly Nightshade sightings.

"Hey Sherlock!" One of Donnie's coworkers called. "Wanna join us at the bar after work for drinks? Or are you too busy chasing Deathly Nightwatch?"

The bespectacled turtle frowned and shot a glare at the obnoxious man. "No, unlike you, my source of entertainment isn't drowning myself in tequila. And it's **Deadly Nightshade**, for your information. Get your facts straight."

He ignored his coworker calling him an unpleasant name under his breath in favor of typing on his laptop, adding information to his digital journal. He knew it was risky typing on it here where his coworkers could swoop in and read his inner thoughts, but ever since the incident at the bank, he couldn't stop adding to it. And it wouldn't be filled with just his private thoughts…it would also be filled with his finding on the vigilante…his hero. Well, he knew heroine was the proper term.

With the clock now striking four, the bespectacled turtle saved everything on his laptop and desk computer, shut them both down, and gathered his things so he could finally go home. First stop, the coffee shop; next stop, home. He placed his laptop and papers in his bag and hung it on his shoulder before going to clock out. Maybe over the weekend he could get some investigation done, unless his roommate wanted to go on another so-called "male bonding" adventure. The last one ended up with him sporting a broken ankle…

He heard a few people speak to him as he headed out the door. Typical things like 'Good luck chasing the vigilante, Detective' and 'Say hi to Scooby Doo for me', along with other drivel. He wasn't trying to act like he was above them, but at the same time, they didn't need to treat him like he was below them. All he wanted was to do his job and make a name for himself…was that too much to ask? Apparently so…and right now he just wanted to get out of there and not think about the people who constantly put him down.

The first thing Donnie did when he started up his car was put on some SOHN and HAIM; not many people knew of his fascination with techno music. But for a moment it made him forget about the things that were wrong and transported him into a world of his own thoughts…until he almost ran a stop sign and had to focus on the road. Sometimes he just couldn't help himself and go off into his own world, especially if it meant he could temporarily forget about the things causing him problems. He could've dwelled on it more, but thankfully the coffee shop was in view, making him pull up to the curbside and park.

He didn't seem to notice over at the table closest to the window the stranger reading on a book and sipping on an iced coffee. If he did, he would know the lady wasn't exactly a stranger, and he did realize that a moment later when he looked her way coming in the door. The sight made him jump out of his skin for a second, followed by being washed over by a feeling of discomfort and awkwardness. Oh…oh no, it was…

Cheyloe Olizweski.

The bespectacled turtle gulped and tried to hide himself within the crowd of customers waiting to get their caffeine fix. But two things worked against him: he was the only anthropomorphic turtle in the shop and he was the tallest. Maybe she would be too distracted by her book to notice him; yes, that was a possibility. But that was destined not to happen, and as he got closer to the counter, he noticed her look up from the novel and immediately make eye-contact with him. Crud.

Cheyloe couldn't help but stare into his eyes, even from the distance separating them. It was him…the journalist from the charity event…Donatello. And now she remembered from the news; he was one of the hostages in the attempted bank robbery! But he was rescued and made it out unharmed, much to her relief. But now he acted like he was avoiding her. A wave of embarrassment suddenly hit her and she glanced away for a split-second; she HAD told him that she and her mother didn't like journalists. Dog-earing the place in her book, she carried it and her coffee towards the line and right up to Donatello, who seemed to slink away at her presence.

"…Donatello, right?" She asked softly. "I honestly didn't think we'd see each other here. I saw that news report about the bank robbery; please tell me you're okay!"

Donnie scratched the back of his neck and bit on his lower lip. "W-Well, I've been better, to be honest. Though I'm certain nothing can compare to being a hostage… So…how have you been, Miss Olizweski?"

"You don't have to be so formal with me, in public or not. You can always just call me Cheyloe." The brunette giggled. The giggling puttered out though, and she stared at him with the same awkward feeling in her eyes he had. Okay, she had to say it and say it now. "Donatello…listen…I want to apologize for what happened at the party."

"Apologize?" Donnie repeated. "For what?"

"I think it should be obvious." Cheyloe deadpanned, moving with him as he progressed through the line. "When I told you to your face that I didn't like journalists. I know that hurt you, and that wasn't my intention at all."

"Um, well…I'll be honest with you." The bespectacled turtle began. "I came with my friend April to the party…simply because I wanted to interview Chief Raphael and Mayor Hamato about the crime and the vigilante stopping them. April told me that your family wasn't fond of journalists, but I didn't believe it…and, I wanted to find you and ask you if it was true."

The woman's eyes widened but softened just as quickly. No wonder he felt so awkward, and not just over her 'I don't like journalists' comment. "Well…I'm really glad you told me the truth. Don't ever be afraid to be straight-forward with me; I won't hold a grudge for it."

Donnie felt a sort of relief splash over him, though it didn't completely get rid of his awkward aura around the heiress. She apologized and expressed gratitude for his honesty, so why did it remain? Could it be their differences in social status? Was it his own lack of social skills? Or perhaps…no, that would be too soon. Did he even HAVE those sort of feelings for someone he barely knew? He got so caught up in his conflicting emotions he didn't even realize he was at the counter now.

"Are you going to order somethin' or not?" The barista asked snippily.

"O-Oh, sorry!" The turtle sputtered. "Um…large black coffee with two sugars, please!"

Cheyloe watched the barista type in the order, and then cast her eyes on the pastry display. It only took a moment of contemplation before she opened her wallet and cut in, "Could you add a couple of toffee brownies on that? Put everything on my tab."

"Wha…n-no, it's okay, Cheyloe! I-I can pay for it!" Donnie insisted, albeit panicky. "Really, I can!"

"Nonsense, it's on me." She chirped, pulling money from her wallet and handing it to the barista. "Besides…why don't we use this opportunity to chat with each other? You know, without my mom hovering over us or people asking me for requests every minute."

Now Donnie could feel his heart about to jump straight out of his plastron. Wasn't it supposed to be him offering to get her a coffee? At least that's what he remembered that etiquette called for. But it wasn't often that a woman he hardly knew offered to buy his coffee AND add pastries to it. He automatically began to formulate how he could possibly make this up to her when the woman grabbed the coffee and pastries and asked, "Would you like to sit down?"

Despite his attempt to protest and say he really had to go, he felt himself being led by Cheyloe to the table she occupied and sitting opposite of her. He couldn't remember the last time that he sat at the same table with a lady; maybe the last time he tried dating, but this was no date. He began to open his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly. Especially when he saw she was going to speak first.

"So…um…" Cheyloe cleared her throat to get the words out. "What's it like to work as a journalist?"

"Huh? Oh, well, this is the first time anyone's asked me this." Donnie sheepishly admitted. "It has its perks…if you get famous enough, you can travel to other countries to cover stories. Of course…you have to be careful with what you find out, or you may end up…dead."

"That comes with investigative journalism, right? I actually saw you wrote about the new pet store downtown. It was really great." She beamed, flashing a smile.

Donatello found himself blushing madly. "You really like it? W-Well, thanks…but a pet store article doesn't exactly get me a Pulitzer Prize."

The brunette rested her head in her hand, absentmindedly taking a bite out of one of the toffee brownies. "Don't you usually have to start at the very bottom and work your way to the top? I think you'll be at that Pulitzer Prize, you just have to give it some time."

The turtle sighed. "I don't know…I mean, no one at the news station takes me seriously enough to allow me to write the BIG articles. Truth is, apart from the intern, I'm the youngest person at the station, so everyone treats me like my ideas are stupid and nonsensical."

Cheyloe's eyes widened and she raised her head up. "That's awful! Just because you're the youngest doesn't mean your ideas are stupid! If anything…your age should work to your advantage! Give them all fresh ideas!"

Donnie suddenly crossed his arms and rested his head in them. "Maybe…but try convincing Burne Thompson of that. Whatever he assigns me, and it's usually the stuff in the far corners of the paper, I have to do, and I get no thanks for it."

"Sounds almost like journalism's a thankless job in a nutshell." The woman deadpanned. "But don't let it get you down. Just keep working hard and aiming to be the best in your field. That's all you can do. Just don't think about asking ME for an interview, okay?"

To his surprise, Donnie found himself laughing, and it was a genuine laugh, too. "Thank you, Cheyloe. That's made me feel a little better. Still…getting to the top won't be easy, but I think I've found the story that'll speed my success up!"

"Want to talk about it over dinner?" Cheyloe suggested.

The bespectacled turtle froze and his face dropped at the request. "W-Wait, did you say 'dinner'? No offense, but…are you asking me out on a date?"

Cheyloe snorted and her face slowly turned beet-red, a hand instantly flying over her mouth. "Oh, no, no! I just mean meet up somewhere and, you know, chat! I want to know more about your work, and in turn I'll tell you what it's like to be the child of a diplomat. Don't worry, I won't tell my mom. But if she finds out, it's strictly platonic."

"R-Right, right." Donnie agreed, feverishly nodding his head. "Strictly platonic! Sounds good to me!" He glanced over the interior of the coffee shop and asked, "So, uh, what time and where?"

"You like sushi?" Cheyloe asked. "If so, how about Sushi Nakazawa? It's a little expensive, but I'm buying anyway. We can eat and talk there, if that's okay. It doesn't open until 5, so how about tomorrow at 6 o'clock?"

Granted, it had been a long time since he ate sushi, and it was that kind he got at a quick stop. But a place like Sushi Nakazawa? Cheyloe Olizweski had good taste, but he felt bad that she would be paying for it, even though he couldn't really afford dinner there himself. He would figure out a way to repay her. "That…that sounds great. Sushi Nakazawa at 6 o'clock it is!"

* * *

The moment the apartment door swung open, Donatello rushed inside and closed the door behind him, pressing his shell to it as though he was trying to hide from someone. In reality, it was the realization sinking in that he just agreed to go with Cheyloe Olizweski to dinner the following evening. Everything was just fine until he started up the elevator to his apartment, and their conversation replayed in his mind. Now he sweated bullets and his heart pounded in his chest like a native drum. He couldn't remember the last time he went on a date, and the first time he did, it led to…

Shaking his head, he was greeted by a heavyset young man pulling an instant meal out of the microwave. "Hey Donnie, where were you? I didn't think it would take you that long to get a coffee. Long line again?"

The bespectacled turtle sat down his bag and only mumbled incoherently. The man, his roommate, sat his meal down on the counter and asked in a now-concerned tone, "Donnie, you okay?"

Donatello finally regained at least some of his composure before turning to face his friend. "Timothy, did I throw away that suit I had for my job interview?"

"Uh…I don't remembering you throwing it away. I think it's still in the back of your closet last time I cleaned." Timothy shrugged. "Why do you need it?"

Donnie adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath, taking his ID badge off and setting it on the nearby table. "I'm going out to dinner with someone tomorrow. And before you start, it's NOT a date! You could say it's more of a…um…casual meeting?"

Tim blinked before laughing and heartily smacking the turtle on his shell. Donnie yelped and shot forward before regaining his balance; it was that strength that made Timothy such a proficient security guard. "Don, going out to dinner with someone is qualified to be a date. So, who's the lady you've sunk your hooks into, eh?"

Donnie ignored his roommate nudging him in the side. "You won't believe me if I tell you."

"Oh c'mon, try me!" The man insisted. "I've been your roommate for the past three years; you can trust me enough to tell me!"

Donatello bit his lip before replying in a strained voice, "…Cheyloe Olizweski."

Timothy fell silent and just blinked his eyes, digesting the name his roommate just gave him. It took a moment and Donnie giving him odd looks before his mouth gaped open. "Cheyloe Olizweski…as in **Cheyloe Olizweski **the **heiress**!? THAT Cheyloe Olizweski!? Oh man, Donnie, how'd that happen!?"

"…I was going to get to that." The turtle sighed through gritted teeth. "I saw her at the coffee shop and she talked to me…said she was sorry about saying she didn't like journalists." Yeah, he told Timothy about what happened at the charity event, albeit grudgingly. "She asked me to dinner tomorrow at Sushi Nakazawa to just talk…y'now, ask me what it's like to be a journalist and all that jazz."

"Why do I have a hard time believing that?" Timothy asked with great sarcasm, having a somewhat-smug look on his face. "I don't know, buddy…I think she may like you."

"What? T-That's ridiculous!" Donnie sputtered. "Besides…you know what happened the last time I was in a relationship…"

Tim's expression dropped and he looked guilty for teasing him. "Sorry Don…but you don't know…maybe this one will be better. Don't let the past hold you back, okay? Look, I'll wash your suit and have it ready for you, so just focus on having a great time tomorrow."

The turtle mulled that statement over, but it didn't take long for a smile to form on his lips. While Timothy was often kind of impulsive, and klutzy to boot, he was like a big teddy bear and knew when and when not to joke about something. He was also a friend he wouldn't trade for the world. "Thanks, Tim."

Tim nodded and offered another hearty slap on his roommate's shell. "All right, go kick your shoes off and I'll fix you some leftover tortellini!"

"I shall take you up on that offer." Donnie joked.

* * *

Even though it was already after-hours at the police station, one desk still had a light illuminating over it, casting shadows around the rest of the corridors. On the desk lay several papers, most of them eye-witness accounts, others old case files. A pair of green eyes scanned over them, once, twice, three times, going over every little detail. If anyone said Chief Raphael was a workaholic that would be an understatement. While he dedicated himself totally to his work, it bordered right on an obsession.

His hand nudge a nearby ashtray as he went to grab a pen, clicking it to life and circling on a paper that made mention of that freak Deadly Nightshade. As everyone knew, if there was one thing Raph hated, it was a vigilante. They were all scum to him, no better than the mob bosses, druggies, and serial killers. They were all alike, and nothing could change his mind. Deadly Nightshade was no exception, and once he had her cornered, he would toss her in a jail cell for the rest of her life. It was then he let out a sigh, coughed into his wrist, and opened his top desk drawer. He fished around for a moment before pulling out something…something that resembled a gold ring.

For once, a wave that mixed nostalgia and sadness lessened the hardness in his gaze and made his frown disappear. He hated himself for forgetting to take it home with him, but he wouldn't make that mistake again. He held the ring in his clenched fist and pressed it to the middle of his forehead.

"…I'm not going to let you get away from me next time, Nightshade."


End file.
